


Guardian of Order

by Stellarstellan



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Berith the female one, Byleth is the male twin, Changing POV, F/M, Introspection, Multi, My Unit | Byleth Twins, depiction of death and violence, heavy spoilers for all routes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22350787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stellarstellan/pseuds/Stellarstellan
Summary: A torn-up Fódlan is rising from the ashes of war. Here are the stories of those who lived it, centuries ago.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Byleth

Byleth kneeled beneath Rhea’s figure, His head hanging low in reverence. His right hand was meticulously placed upon his non-beating heart. The cathedral was silent apart from the organ’s music, resonating against the marbled walls and golden columns. The war was over. After five years of blood, sweat and tears, Fódlan was finally tasting a resemblance of peace. The people had the right to rejoice, even for a sole day. All his friends and companions were quietly cheering on him in that moment. And yet, as Byleth was being appointed new Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, he did not find it in himself to be happy. The scene was all too familiar for his liking. Seteth’s oaths and recitated pledges were white noise to his ears and in that moment, all he could picture was Edelgard. 

_“It looks as though… my path…will end here.”_

_At last, they had managed to win over Edelgard. The Adrestian Empire was no more. Except for one, last little detail. He was standing, the Sword of the Creator in one hand, Edelgard in front of him, kneeling, looking at him with not an ounce of pity in her eyes, instead finding a burning passion that took him aback. Her gaze, unfaltering, was fixated on him, and he knew, somehow, that with Edelgard, peace was never an option. She would have to fall for her cause for them to claim their victory. There was no way out of this with every one of them alive, at last. She already had one foot in the grave. Her stance was unstable, as she used her rapier as a way to support her bruised body. She was the dying one, but out of them, he was the most scared. Scared of her, of himself, of that future they both aimed for._

_“My teacher, claim your victory. Strike me down, you must !” She breathed._

_He wondered, what she could have been. What they could have been, together. Their proximity was long forgotten. What mattered was this moment. Their final moments. For a second, it seemed that is was only Edelgard and him, in the throne room. Everything could have been so different. He remembered their days back at the Academy like it was yesterday - and truthfully, it felt like it for him - , days where he could almost have acted like a normal young adult, enjoying life and discovering love freely. Not some child thrown into mercenary life and war. He was bitter, bitter and a little jealous of everything he could have had. With her, maybe. He will never know._

_“Your path lies across my grave,” she told him, locking her eyes with his. “It is time for you to find the courage to walk it.”_

_What felt like months to him was years for the others. And yet, so many of his loved ones had met their fate under her orders. Leonie, Ferdinand, Jeralt… That, he could not forgive. Ever. But the past was the past. The remains of what he cherished had been crushed by the wheels of Time. Fate had put them against each other. He had people to protect, too. Someone to cherish and care for. He couldn’t let her down for some stupid teenage romance. Repressing his emotions, he braced himself._

_“If I must fall…let it be by your hand.”_

_He gripped the Sword of the Creator tighter, its blade already dripping with crimson blood. Was it hers ? Probably. He kept his head low, taking glimpses of her form through his eyelashes. He knew what he had to do. They all agreed on it before dawn. Dimitri and Claude were watching behind him, and he could feel their gaze deep into the back of his skull. It was hell, to him. He didn’t remember why he insisted on taking her down. Maybe he had hoped that she would forfeit. What a fool of him. He had to take his responsabilities, now. He almost felt like crying._

_“I wanted… to walk with you.”_

_He beheaded her in one, swift slash of the Sword of the Creator._

“I hereby appoint you Archbishop of the Church of Seiros,” Rhea announced.

The crowd roared, and Byleth mourned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome on this new fic !! This chapter was quite short, as it is more of an introduction than an actual chapter. Also bear with me, as i am not used to long pieces of writing and this is my first multichaptered fic altogether ! I hope this snippet got you hooked for the following events of the story ! I don’t know when the next update will be, since my schedule is packed with work and I don’t want to pressure myself but please, keep an eye out for me. Until next time, it was Stellarstellan ! Thank you !


	2. Dimitri

It had been a while since Dimitri had seen a crowd so lively. The reception hall was packed of guests, some more well-off than others, but he could clearly identify folks from the new, budding villages that had grew at the border of the rebuilt monastery. It felt weird, going back to the former academy, even though he had heard rumors of plans of reinstigating it under a new, more inclusive system. All of them still kept in mind the harsh death of Leonie, five years ago, when Edelgard declared war against the Church of Seiros. She had fallen, like many, but her death especially marked them. Even though Leonie was a student from the Golden Deer, Dimitri remembered her fierce attitude and will of mind. She was a strong adversary, and he would not forget that specific move she used on him, one day, to tacle him to the ground despite his royal lineage. Had they been on a battlefield, he would have lost his head. He also remembered the way she would praise the late captain Jeralt, that sparkle of admiration in her eyes anytime when he entered the room. Indeed, even if the two weren’t part of the same house, Dimitri had considered Leonie as a friend. 

Now that the war was over, Dimitri’s ghosts were still lingering. Like shadows you only see out in the corner of your eye, they surrounded him - from afar, but endlessly present. Before Byleth’s return, he would have sacrificed anything, anyone, if it meant having Edelgard’s head on top of a spike. Now, he felt relieved, but in some way, grieving. He could not describe the whirlwind of emotions that took him when he retrieved the dagger he had gifted her in her youth, polished and in perfect condition, from her still warm dead body. Dimitri had seen the horrors of the war, had lived them, committed them. He regretted that part of him, that part that made Felix hate him for so long, the one that scared everyone and was ready to sacrifice his closest friends to a mindless butchering. But with time, he had learned to pardon others, but mostly himself. He was determined to become a better person, for the people, for his friends, for his own sanity. 

Since his coronation, Dimitri had to be used to people, lords and commoners alike, coming at him for every inconvenience they had, hoping for him to fix it. But Dimitri was only starting to get accustomed to his new position and responsibilities. As the new, proclaimed and rightful King of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, Dimitri didn’t have a minute for himself. Truthfully, he was rather glad to occupy his mind that much, as work kept the ghosts away longer, farther. Exhausted, he could always count on Marianne, his beloved to comfort him and ease his mind after a long day of politics, back in their chambers. She wasn’t without her own wit, either, and he loved the time they spent together, debating the new laws and measures to assure that the best course of action would be taken. Marianne proved herself as an equal opponent to Dimitri’s antics, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. They would spend their free time tending the horses, go horseriding in the woods, Marianne mounting her favorite mare that Dimitri had gifted her. They also played chess often, and he had to admit that the competition was tight between them. In his eyes, Marianne was a pillar of strength, benevolence and will of the mind. He would not let the naysayers diminish her in any way. She would become the next Queen of Faerghus no matter what. Dimitri had been selfish in the past, and considered himself now devoted to the people. But for one, last time, he wanted to be selfish again. Marianne was at the other side, sitting next to Hilda and harboring a smile that melted his heart. She looked beautiful when she smiled. Dimitri couldn't help but smile himself, thinking of how lucky he had been to meet someone like her, who loved him unconditionally, despite all of his flaws. 

DImitri was shaken away from his thoughts by a young lad who bumped into his shoulder. He took in, truly, this time, the sight of the feast. Despite the apparent lavishness of the whole ordeal, Dimitri could sense that the war effort was hard on the people. The commoners looked worn up, tired, and he couldn't help but notice how small their frames looked under the candlelit reception hall. The servants were actively rummaging through the crowd, handing full glasses and retrieving empty ones. A maid came up to him, bowing slightly in front of the King : 

"May I offer a glass of wine to Your Royal Highness?" She asked, her words visibly carefully used because of her addressee. 

"That would be with great pleasure," he answered taking the glass from the plate she was handing him. He took a sip, and was met with the familiar flavor of that fruity white wine he and Byleth liked so much. Lysithea's choice, he recognized. 

The waitress was visibly pleased by the look on his face considering her own expression, and that's when he finally recognized her : The maid usually taking care of the dorm chambers. The same one that was here already, five years ago. She had came back. Dimitri hadn't expected to see any familiar faces of the Academy after the war, apart from his classmates, but people apparently still had faith in the church, enough to be present five years later and attend the new Archbishop's appointment. 

"Oh, I recognize you, at last. Erika, is that it?" he asked simply, surprising her as she hadn’t expected him to engage in a conversation with her. 

"This is right, YourHighness. May I provide you some assistance ?”

“Everything is perfectly fine, do not worry. I am just surprised to see you again, I did not expected it.”

“ Ah, yes, Your Highness, we came back shortly after the Monastery’s rebuilding. We lost everything but… Faith was the only thing left. I knew that Your Highness and Sir Byleth would bring peace upon Fódlan.” She explained simply, like all the hardships she went through were nothing.

Dimitri’s eyes widened. The wine suddenly tasted bitter in his mouth. He almost had forgotten how different war looked, from the civilians’ eyes. It was a thing to be a commander and ordering troops from afar, another to witness it by seen everything you held dear burnt to the ground. Ultimately, all of them had lost something in the war, but having someone discuss it as simply as Erika did made Dimitri feel weirdly uncomfortable. 

“Me and my family… We owe everything to the Church. After the fall of the Monastery and Lady Rhea’s disappearance, we couldn’t count on the Empire to help us. We fled to the Kingdom but they weren’t of much help.” She continued, unaware of Dimitri’s gaze until she faced him again and let out an audible gasp.

“I am very sorry, Your Royal Highness ! I didn’t, by any means, tried to offend you ! I ask for your pardon !” She was losing all composure before him and people were starting to turn back and stare at the scene, causing Dimitri to grow redder and redder. Sometimes, he was still the Dimitri from five years ago. He held her gently by the shoulder in an attempt of calming her down. 

“Everything is perfectly fine, Erika, do not worry. I am simply… Terribly sorry for you and your family. I promise you, as the new King of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, that I will do everything in my power to assure you will never go through this again. I cannot accept it." He claimed, suddenly feeling a rush of confidence go through his veins. 

"Oh, Your Highness…" she almost whispered.

"Ease your mind, as war is now over. A new peace dawns upon Fódlan." He finished solemnly. 

The stares were starting to fade away, but he could still hear the whispers of the crowds, caressing him like hot flames that threatened to burn him alive.

"I heard that before Sir Byleth's return, he massacred a whole Imperial Legion himself!" 

"It seems that even Duke Fraldarius cannot stand him… I wonder why." 

"He tortured innocents!"

Dimitri suddenly missed Fhirdiad. All he wanted in this moment was to curl up in bed with Marianne and forget everything about kingly responsibilities. Dimitri was tired. He had to go home. It was weird, being able to call Fhirdiad home again. He hadn't felt this way since the Tragedy of Duscur. He had found a new meaning to the capital, a feeling of longing, melancholy, but also happiness and calm. But he still had a lot of work to do. Dimitri couldn't wait to be home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here goes a new chapter wooo. As you can see, this fic will change pov in each chapter, allowing you to delve into the mind of the characters while following the events of the story after the end of the war, something I thought lacked in the AM, CF and SS routes. I had a lot of fun writing Dimitri's, as he's a complicated character that I think can redeem his past actions (just like Edelgard, in my opinion). Anyway sorry for rambling, and I hope you liked it ! See you next time ~


	3. Berith

“Berith, do you have everything ?” Claude shouted from the other side of the door.  
“I-... I think so, yeah !” 

A dozen of maids were rummaging in her room, packing her clothes and necessities. She made a move to help them and took her favorite shirt in hands, starting to fold it, but one maid came immediatly to stop her and stole the silk shirt from her grasp, adding it to the meager pile of clothes. She relented and sat on her bed, defeated. She never really had a lot to wear, being used to the mercenary life. The old room never really felt like her bedroom, anyway. It’s been five years since the fall of the monastery. Five years since Jeralt’s death, already. 

Today, she would not let herself wallow in misery and sadness. Today was a day of celebration and joy. The first day of the investiture of the new Archbishop, Byleth Eisner. Her own brother. The Archbishop. To Berith, it sounded almost like a bad joke. A stupid prank someone would have played on them both. Yet, it also felt weird to think she was the soon-to-be Queen of Almyra. Things were changing, maybe a little too fast for her, all things considered. In truth, Berith was scared.

She was scared of what was to come. To leave Fódlan for good. To leave her brother, the person she loved the most after her father, for good. But Almyra was as much in need of its King than Fódlan was in need of its Archbishop. Gone were the times where she was a young innocent girl playing with her family. They changed, too. Jeralt was gone, and as for her brother, she didn’t recognized him either. That fateful day, when Solon trapped Byleth in that other dimension. When he came back, looking more otherworldly than he ever had. She knew, deep down, that she had lost her brother. When he reappeared, five years later, looking exactly the same, untouched by time. Their connection was long gone. His vague explanations didn’t help either. Byleth was never one to talk much, but when she looked at him the day before, kneeling before Rhea, she felt that he was where he belonged, somehow. 

Berith had yet to find where she belonged. Maybe Almyra, besides Claude. 

Claude, oh, Claude. She didn’t know what she would have become without him. He was the sun she always longed for. 

Suddenly, she craved to be close to him. She took her leave, the maids being too occupied anyway to even remark her departure. But behind the door, no one was there. He probably left already. His schedule was packed and the few times they had together lately were limited to sleeping and packing. After all, he was still the leader of the Alliance, and the passation wasn’t something easy to put in place, especially with someone like Lorenz as a successor. 

So, she wandered in the monastery. One last time, she told herself. He dark blue hair was shining under the morning sun. She took in the feeling of the wind caressing her face. Her steady, beating heart calmed down a little. maybe it wasn’t so bad, after all. Peace was finally there, after all these years. She was alive, “That’s the most important thing”, would have said her father. She chuckled to herself.

Her feet drove her to the cemetary. 

“Sitri and Jeralt Eisner” was carved on one of the graves. She sat down in front of it, passing her hands through the grass. She carefully placed the flowers she had just bought. White lilies and chrysanthemums, classic and traditional. 

“Hi dad, hi mom. Today is my last day at the monastery. I’m leaving for Almyra… with Claude. I… Actually I… I’m scared, dad.” Her voice was quivering. “I don’t want to leave you both here. I don’t want to leave Byleth. I wish everyone could just come with me there. It’s selfish, I know but… I just don’t want to be alone.” Silent tears were falling down. “It was so hard without you and Byleth, you know. I don’t know if I would still be alive if it wasn’t for Claude and the others. But I don’t want to leave in the past anymore. I have to do this. I have to leave. I feel like this is the right thing to do. You always told me to follow my heart, and that’s what I’m doing today. I gave your journal to Byleth. He needs it more than me, and it will be safe at the monastery. I guess this is a goodbye ? I will miss you, both. Much more than you can imagine. I don’t know when I’ll be coming back so… may the goddess protect you both, mother, father.”

As she stood up and turned around, she gasped, eyes still red and cheeks still wet. Claude was standing there, under the trees. His face was slightly obscured by the shade and as he approached, his expression was undecipherable. He walked slowly, and when he was at her level, he just embraced her. drowned in his tall stature, Berith let out a shaken sigh she didn’t know she retained. She gripped at his clothes for dear life, as if she would fall without his support. She sobbed quietly in his chest for what felt like hours to her. 

“Thank you” Claude muttered against her ear. “For doing this for me.”

  
  
She chuckled through her tears. 

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH I’M NOT DEAD, I KNOW. I’m so sorry for not updating any sooner, but 2020 has been a hell of a year for everyone, me included. Despite that, I still love the idea of this fic dearly, and I’m not planning to abandon it. I’ll TRY to update soon, I’ll do my best. I hope you enjoyed this chapter !


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